


Repressed Memory

by Minkbara



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Experiments, Laboratories, Needles, Toue-Company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkbara/pseuds/Minkbara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mink is all alone in a white room with looming shadows and he can't breathe can't breathe can't breath can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe cant breathe cant breathe cantbreathe cantbreathe cantbreathe cantbreathe cantbreathecantbreathecantbrea (Warm up drabble)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repressed Memory

_**N**_ eedles. There’s so many goddamn needles. He can’t breathe, can’t move. He can only stare at the faceless shadows that are poisoning his veins with transparent chemicals. There’s tubes running up his nose to force him to breathe, which is evident enough that whoever these people are, want him alive. For now, anyway. There’s no point in fighting back, for his wrists and ankles are bound down with a strap to a bed, and he’s too fatigued anyway, though he’s not sure if his exhaustion is from the shock from being forcibly dragged from his home, or from the liquid being pumped into his blood.

          _**H**_ e’s scared. Terrified, even. Literally hours beforehand he had been playing with his younger sister in the woods near his home, and now.. He blinks a few times, not quite understanding what was happening. At some point he had been swapped of his own clothes for what seemed like something akin to a hospital gown, but even Mink was aware that this was far from a hospital. Everything is a blur. It’s feels as if he’s drunk which, in all honesty, isn’t far off. He remembers being knocked over the head and waking up here. The village, his people.. Are they here with him? They should be, right? With as much strength he can muster, he lifts his head and looks past the figures, but all he sees is the harsh glare of the unnaturally white walls. He’s completely and utterly alone.

          **“—-Where is everyone else?”**

        _**I**_ t took so much strength to utter that question, but even then, it goes ignored by the overlooking figures. Perhaps they never heard him, considering how quiet and choked his voice was, so he tries again.

          **“I asked where everyone else is!”**

          _**V**_ isibly more angry now, he hopes for some kind of answer, his throat stings from the increase of volume, and his chest heaves from the stress. The flesh where the needles are poked into burns when he moves, but it’s not enough for him to take notice. He strains his ear to listen to them, but it greeted only with the sound of cruel laughter. They’re fucking laughing. Anger fills his chest, but he’s too powerless to do anything. A voice only just reaches his ear, someone telling another to “Shut the bastard up,” along with more some heartless and bitter nicknames, more specific to his skin colour. He can hear them, if only just, and never before has he felt so weak, so vulnerable. That thought alone causes near hyperventilation, and he doesn’t notice it, but there are tears spilling from his eyes. This is just the start of a long, and painful journey.


End file.
